After My Alpha Chose His Pregnant Mistress

I arrived at the pack house two hours early. The banquet hall needed final touches—candles arranged, place cards set, the anniversary cake positioned just right. Three years since Damian marked me. Three years since his cedar-and-rain scent first wrapped around me like a promise I believed was unbreakable.

Eight months pregnant, I moved slowly through the corridors. My wolf stirred contentedly inside me, drowsy and warm. She loved these preparations. Loved being Luna. Loved him.

Then I caught it.

Damian's scent, threading through the hallway like smoke. But twisted. Tangled with something floral I didn't recognize. Something that didn't belong.

My wolf lifted her head.

I followed the scent trail without thinking. Down the main corridor, past the Beta's office, out the side entrance toward the territory's eastern edge. The path grew narrower. Trees pressed closer. I'd never walked this far in this direction before.

Then I saw it.

A building. Small, private, nestled between old-growth pines. The kind of structure you'd build if you wanted something hidden but comfortable. The kind you'd furnish if you were planning to stay.

The door was unlocked.

I pushed it open.

The scent hit me like a fist. Damian's cedar-and-rain, saturated into every surface. And underneath it, woven through it—jasmine. Sweet and cloying. A she-wolf's scent I knew but had never paid attention to.

Daisy Sanders.

The main room was decorated like a Luna's quarters. Plush furniture. Soft lighting. A bookshelf filled with romance novels. On the side table sat a framed photo: Damian and Daisy, standing close, her head tipped toward his shoulder. His hand rested on her waist.

My knees went weak.

I gripped the doorframe. My wolf whimpered, confused. This couldn't be real. There had to be an explanation. Damian wouldn't—

I moved deeper into the den.

The bedroom door stood half-open. I didn't want to look. Every instinct screamed at me to turn around, to leave, to pretend I'd never found this place.

I looked anyway.

The bed was unmade. His scent was strongest here. And hers. Mingled. Intimate. Undeniable.

On the nightstand: a bottle of prenatal vitamins. The label had Daisy's name on it.

My hand flew to my own swollen belly. The pup inside me kicked, oblivious.

I backed out of the room. My breathing came too fast. The walls seemed to tilt. I stumbled into the main room again, and that's when I saw the closet.

Inside hung dresses. Evening gowns. Luna-grade clothing. The kind you'd wear to formal pack events. The kind I wore.

I pulled one out. The fabric was expensive. Custom-tailored. The tag inside read: *For my Luna.*

My vision blurred.

I didn't cry. I couldn't. My wolf was howling inside me, a sound of pure anguish that had no outlet. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and started taking photos. Every room. Every detail. The framed photo. The vitamins. The closet. The bed.

Evidence.

I didn't know what I was going to do with it yet. I just knew I needed proof that this was real. That I hadn't imagined it.

When I finished, I walked back to the pack house on autopilot. My wolf had gone silent. Not peaceful. Silent in the way a wounded animal goes quiet before it dies.

The banquet hall was exactly as I'd left it. Candles waiting to be lit. Place cards arranged in perfect rows. The anniversary cake with its delicate sugar flowers.

I stared at it all.

Then I pulled out my laptop.

***

The banquet started at eight. By seven-thirty, the hall was full. Pack members in formal wear, laughing and talking. Damian stood at the head table in his tailored suit, smiling. He caught my eye across the room and winked.

I didn't smile back.

I waited until everyone was seated. Until the first course was served. Until Damian stood to give his speech about our bond, our love, our future.

Then I walked to the AV booth.

The tech on duty looked up, surprised. "Luna? Do you need—"

"I need the projector," I said quietly.

He hesitated. "Alpha Damian didn't mention—"

"I'm mentioning it now."

Something in my voice made him step aside.

I plugged in my laptop. The screens around the hall flickered to life. Damian's speech faltered mid-sentence.

The first image appeared: the den's exterior.

The hall went silent.

I clicked to the next photo. The main room. The furniture. The bookshelf.

Damian's face drained of color.

Next: the bedroom. The unmade bed. The mingled scents captured in the timestamp and location data I'd embedded.

Next: the framed photo of him and Daisy.

Next: the prenatal vitamins with her name.

Next: the closet full of Luna-grade dresses. The tag: *For my Luna.*

Someone gasped. Then another. The silence shattered into whispers, then exclamations.

Damian moved toward me. "Natalie, wait—"

"Don't," I said.

My voice carried across the hall. Everyone froze.

I looked at him. Really looked. The man I'd given everything to. The man whose scent I'd once found intoxicating.

Now it made me sick.

"I found your den," I said. "The one you built for her. With pack funds. While I was pregnant with your pup."

He dropped to his knees.

Right there. In front of everyone.

"Natalie, please. I can explain. I'll fix this. I'll transfer everything to you—the pack assets, the territory rights, everything. Just please—"

He reached for my hand.

The moment his fingers touched my skin, pain exploded across my wrist. Silver-like welts bloomed where he'd made contact, angry and red.

I yanked my hand back.

My wolf howled. Not in my mind—out loud. A sound of pure rejection that tore from my throat without permission.

Damian stared at the welts. At me. His face crumpled.

"No," he whispered. "No, your wolf can't—she can't reject me. We're fated. The Moon Goddess—"

"The Moon Goddess," I said quietly, "doesn't protect mates who betray the bond."

I turned and walked out.

Behind me, the hall erupted.